


Pistols of a pariah

by SRking91



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2019-11-09 06:08:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17996375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SRking91/pseuds/SRking91
Summary: El finds a soul almost as lost as her, she has to defend him from those hunting them down as her feelings grow.





	1. File 1: A meeting from murder

Eleanor Hopper stood her hand wrapped around a SIG Sauer P226, a small logo of an 11 in a yellow circle, her slender fingers wrapped around the grip like tentacles of a octopus to a rock. Her stance perfect, the gun staring down at her the poor victim...

No wait he deserves this, come on El pull it.

She looked down at him, she had punched him as soon as she had entered the room. From here she could see so much she wouldn’t otherwise, like the fact there was a spray of freckles almost as though they had been perfectly placed which made him absolutely adorable.

Stop! Come on El, focus.

El began to focus on her breathing the wood grip, the weight of the bullets, her victims scared face, the way the his black mop of hair made him look undeniably sexy and...

Hopper!

“Please..” came a low, quiet, fearful voice “what do you want? Money? I don’t have much but here!” he reached into each pocket and produced a small black wallet and threw it at her feet.

She began kneel down before stopping, she looked up at him “You try anything, you lose your head and not the one on your shoulders” The guy nodded frantically.

El, you’re disgusting. 

She looked through the wallet there was $50, a small blue and yellow card that read “Hawkins Arcade, a library card and a picture of the guy, with 3 others, a short boy with curly hair and a smile that, despite his obvious lack of teeth was a mile long, a kid with a bowl cut and an awkward smile, the third guy El couldn't tell you anything about as his face was covered by his hand clearly from laughing at a joke someone had made.

"These people" she said pointing her gun at the picture "they your friends?"

A smile came to the guys face "No" he said "I just took a random picture with some randoms who I walked by and decided to take a picture with." The sarcasm thick in his voice.

She chuckled quietly and pointed her gun at his face again " Sarcasm? Now? Okay your death not mine." she said smirking.

"No, no please, please" he said now on the vurge of tears.

"I can't kill him" she thought.

What!?! I'm sorry you "can't".

"No he's...Uh well... ya know."

Cute.

"...Yeah".

So, you want to cross the mafia so you can get it on with a guy who you don't even know!

She signed, "This is going to kill me".


	2. File 2: Drive to Desolation

Stars rushed past the window, buildings rushing by as merely colours of grey illuminated by the meagre orange glow of the streetlights. El's dark blue V-8 Ford Mustang, the colouration and lack of headlights lit giving it a natural camouflage. Inside El's face was dirty and focused, her brunette hair cut short in natural curls, she wore brown and green camo cargo pants, battered sneakers, a Metallica T-Shirt and fingerless gloves.

In the seat to her right sat a guy who just two hours ago, had been looking up the barrel of her gun, he wore a white shirt a loosened tie, black dress pants and formal shoes, his face almost cloaked by the black mop that drooped from his scalp matching the colour of his suit. His first eye though now closed due to the drugs El had slipped into water, normally shone a bright blazing shade of green as well as the second did, however it now was covered by a flow of bright red blood the source of which was covered by a tuft of his hair, his sexy, sexy rock star like hair she just wished she could grab it pull aside and...

Hopper! Sorry to be the bearer of bad news but you were supposed to kill him not kiss him!

She cursed at her subconscious for interrupting her enjoyment but no matter how much she tried to push the issue to the side, she had just in essence denied a direct order from the Don of the biggest mafia this side of the Illinois border and she had a sneaking suspicion that he wouldn’t understand how sexy hair solved the issue that lead to his assassination order.

Now she thought about it why was a guy like him on the mafia's hit list? I mean he didn’t look like a criminal what with his nerdy freckles, lack of scars and no tattoos. Plus El had seen enough abhorrent people in her lifetime to be able to tell the difference between a murderer and this guy he looked about her age going off his height and bare bones stubble he called a beard.

Stop sugar coating it he's a nerd, a loser I mean come on El even YOU can do better than THAT. 

This time her subconscious seemed to take the voice of her feisty redhead friend Max, El smiled. Max lived just outside Chicago and had temper as red as her hair, in the days when El would be ogling Max would say stuff like that all the time El would then lean over and quietly whisper into Max's ear, to the point it was not much more than a breeze 'At least they don’t play D and D’ and every time, without fail she could remember Max’s cheeks turning almost as red as her scalp. Max had always been nerdy, she loved the arcade, was great at gambling card games and secretly had a love of Dungeons and Dragons. El remember the first few months they'd known each other she'd hidden her love, afraid of El wanting to get away from her as soon as she found out. However to her surprise when El did indeed find out she didn’t want to get away in fact when she had found Max’s board, notebooks and pieces poorly hidden under one single pillow she, had wanted to play right away. Since then both of the girls wasted hours talking about campaigns, designing characters, wasting hours upon hours in Max’s basement and El's lounge playing the game, drinking various brands of sodas, eating eggos and Doritos.

El looked down at the gun that rested in the holster on her right the yellow circle a clear reference to her favourite snack the red lettered 11 her lucky number, once on a campaign she had defeated the boss on their longest campaign (80 combined hours) with that number.

I still don’t know how you managed to get through all of that.

El turned the radio on, the sound of the latest pop by Generic Pop star number 564 blared through the speakers, El turned the music down and changed the station, taking out her cracked phone she opened her messenger clicking on the contact affectionately known as “Ginger nerd”.

'Hey zoomer' she typed. It wasn’t 20 seconds before she got her response.

'Hey, how's my favourite bald babe doing?' came a response.

'Fine you big geek’ she soon responded 'I need to crash somewhere tonight you mind?'

'No, I don’t mind, the key is under the plant pot I'm out of town at the moment, you got a guy with you?'

El chuckled softly, if only she knew 'Maybe...'

'Ha! You nymphomaniac.’

She’s right you know.

'You love me really'

'Someone has to'

I like her

'Kay when I get back from business I'm inviting Kali over and we’re playing like the old days as payment deal?'

'Oh My God! Yeees!'

'Okay thanks, speak to you later'

'Bye'

'Bye Zoomer'

El turned and saw the guy beginning to stir he held his head and was silent for a few minutes the silence not awkward yet still not comfortable, he sat for a moment before asking 'Where are we going?'.

Mike couldn’t recall much from the night he was taken from the warmth of his hotel and normal life and thrown into a whirlwind even later in his life when he tried really hard. What he did remember was the splitting headache and the person who sat before him, her hair was cut short and looked as though she had done it herself. When asked by many what she wore that night he always gave different answers sometimes he said she wore a dress of pure white other times he simply answered 'Those street clothes that all the kids were wearing back in those days' when he did give this answer those around him would hold their heads in their hands and comment on how old he sounded but to tell the god's honest truth he never noticed what she was wearing he was too infatuated with her face. It was covered slightly by her bangs, a small scar on her left cheek, she was texting quietly to someone, Mike's hand raced up to his forehead covering the wound he had sustained at some point in the night.

Mike, you need to stop drinking.

Mike looked forward to the dashboard and what he saw made him smile and begin to feel all nostalgia possible, a Dungeons and Dragons figurine, a female one at that, stuck in an action pose like a Hawaiian Hulu girl ornament. 'A mage' he thought although this guess wasn’t very credible due to the fact his head was beginning to resemble a brass band falling down some stairs.

He sat for a moment of bliss remembrance, remembrance of Dustin, of Will and Lucas of the winter nights they spent sat in Dustin's lounge under several blankets watching The Thing and IT until their mothers dragged them back home, of the spring days in Lucas’ attic playing any old board game they could find, of the summer months in Will's back yard playing tag or riding bikes to any corner of the town just too rush back to see who could do it faster and of the autumns when they would sit and watch the leaves change before crawling off to Mike’s basement to play D and D until they couldn’t move any more.

Then the other memories came the memories of Will’s panic attacks, of Troy scarring Dustin’s face, the day he told the party he'd be leaving, the day his best friends stood outside his old house and waved goodbye as he quietly wiped a single stray tear away, the day his father punched him and told him that boys weren’t supposed to cry, the day he crawled to the feet of the Don and begged him for a new home.

He looked to the girl to his left and wondered did she have friends, still enamoured with her face and seemingly impossible beauty 'pretty' he thought.

God Wheeler you’re a love sick schoolboy. It’s sickening. 

Mike sat and listened to the music it was a punk station and a fairly obscure one at that.

'So' he started trying to sound cool 'Where are we going?' Well that’s WHAT Mike said but not how he said it as he had a voice break mid way through.

You’re pathetic Wheeler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s that you say Lassie? Sam's managed to do two uploads less than 2 months apart? Girl if you keep saying that sort of stuff then this Author’s note is going to be more akin to Old Yeller.
> 
> Please feel free to leave me a review and call me a nerd with too much free time.
> 
> Also if you want to I'm sure you know how to follow and favourite.
> 
> If you want more of my bad writing I released what maybe (no promises) the last ever The Alley chapter so go read it.
> 
> I may see you on Friday or in September.
> 
> Thank you to Nerdygeekalex any and all praise, criticism or insults are welcome and encouraged.
> 
> Now if you'll excuse there’s a valentine’s day rejection with my name on it.
> 
> I will try and keep a more consistent upload schedule but.. Haha! Yeah I ain’t telling you my plans I've learned from that mistake I'm not THAT stupid as to open the same can of worms again.
> 
> See ya.
> 
> The Southern Shitbag
> 
> Sam


	3. File 3: Fright of the phonecalls

Jim Hopper was not what one might be inclined to say was a model police chief, sure he had the most experience on all of the force and was, undisputedly the man with the best mind in all of Hawkins. The problem was he kept filling said head with booze and never seemed to stop doing so. Jim Hopper was not what one might be inclined to say was a model father, of the two daughters he had raises neither had graduated middle school for separate reasons, his bonding time with his second daughter El was a pint at the local bar, that normally turned from “a quick refreshment” to “how much alcohol can the two of us drink until our livers literally shut down on us?”. But he loved his two girls, often more than he loved life itself.

Jim was sat at his desk, in his office “working” on seemed like any other Thursday, boring, dull and exceedingly lethargic. Hopper's office was littered with beer cans, dog ends and pill bottles. The air of the small room was a smog of cigarette smoke, the scent of nicotine stuck to the floor and carpets the windows darkened by the aforementioned smoke. Coffee mugs with jet black liquid sat on desks and the window sill. No one dared venture into the office no just because of the smell but when Hopper wasn’t drinking he would get so wrapped up in the case he was following he would yell at all those who interrupted him. Back in the his younger days, while raising his daughter Sarah he would simply become married to a case he would arrive at seven in the morning, leave at nine at night, work until ten at home eat food with his wife and Sarah and then work until he went to bed at two in the morning. His dedication to the force to many was quite scary to some, it was why he had shot up the ranks so fast, well that and the fact that there were only two other recruits on the force at that time, neither of whom were as savvy as Hopper when it came to predicting the criminal mind.

Nowadays, Hopper was a drunk and despite what his badge read aloud, deep down he knew that it was only a matter of time before the leader of the local branch of the mafia tried to take Jim out of his seat of power and put one of his puppets in his place. Jim sighed loudly. He looked down at his hard wood desk and rubbed his forehead.

I should of taken him down when I had the chance.

At this thought Jim stopped rubbing his forehead and looked up. Would he even miss being chief that much? Now that he thought about it, he had wanted to step down from the role for a while. There was so much the job stopped him from doing, maybe if he left he could finally get his alcoholism issue under control, get back in touch with El who he hadn’t spoken to in months since she left for Chicago, get into a proper relationship the one night stands, though thrilling and fulfilling exactly doing his health any good and he wasn’t getting any younger, he didn’t have to get married per say but at least get into a relationship that wasn’t centred around sex, his heart would thank him for it. His wife, Sarah's mother had him over 20 years ago he wasn’t even sure if she was still alive.

He could remember those words so clearly. ‘Jim you’re broken and I can’t fix you, call me when you’re better’ and with that his darling dear had left him, walking out of his life, never to return. He never had called her, it was too hard and he simply couldn’t, he wasn’t fixed yet he doubted he ever would be. Two people were left in Jim's life that he truly trusted and appreciated, Joyce his favourite drinking buddy second only to El.

Jim looked down to his watch and to his surprise he couldn’t see it, it was dark outside and on top of that Jim's ears picked up no sign of life on the outside of his door which was odd because normally it sounded as though he worked in the middle of a parade he turned the light to his office on and looked up at the white clock resting silently on his wall, 9:37 he groaned, he must’ve been so quiet everyone must of assumed he went home early or maybe Flo saw how deep in thought he was and left him to it. Jim decided he would go out to Benny’s for dinner tonight, at this point microwave meals were like ash to a burnt mouth. He looked over to his cupboard in the corner of the room and pulled the small cabinets door ajar which gave off a small creak. Inside was a short bottle of whiskey and three musky glasses. Hopper surveyed the small dusty, containers before picking up what seemed like the least dirty glass, the small beaker sitting comfortably in his hand. Upon retrieving the glass he held it upside down as to remove any contents from the last time he used said glass, he grasped the round neck of the bottle and opened it with a few turns. He poured the liquid into his glass and sat staring at absolutely nothing bringing the glass to his face drinking a small portion of the liquor as it inflamed his nostrils with the smell he'd grown to know as his friend over the years recently passed.

The shrill of the black telephone that sat on his desk broke the tranquillity of the office very suddenly braking Hopper away from his thoughts, he let it ring and eventually it stopped. He shook his head as he picked up the glass again and began to focus on the drink. The telephone screamed once more the screeching, bell like sound bouncing off the walls of the small office. This time it took him by such surprise he dropped the glass he had once held firmly in his hand. It crashed loudly onto the floor breaking into 20 different pieces, the liquid leaking out of the large chunks and shards.

He growled to himself as he grasped at the receiver aggressively, 'What?' he half asked, half yelled.

Then at the words that followed his eyes widened 'El'.

El turned the key she had found under the china plant pot, that housed a blooming red rose. Max lived on the outskirts of Chicago, the spires of the city’s skyscrapers standing defiantly against the clouds, the moon shining down onto the streets poking through the clouds of winter, staring down at El as she turned the key in the door and gently pushed the door open with a small creak.

Max’s bungalow was small yet, for Max, surprisingly bland, the walls were painted a dull shade of beige with pictures of Max with her friends and family. Once she had walked in El could see to her right was a door that she knew lead to the kitchen, which was always 'an organised mess' as Max had put it in the past. The kitchen as El remembered it was made up of white paint panels and marble surface tops.

The room opposite the front door was the lounge, no door sat in the frame as Max had kicked it clean off it's hinges right after her boyfriend at the time had jumped town and never called to tell her, she'd never figured out where he’d disappeared off to, El only ever heard Max crying to her over the phone devastated. Inside the room was a dark red couch with a few towels and coats resting on the arms, a flat screen TV sat silently in a corner, Max's piano, black and slick. The snow white keys contrasting with the beautiful jet black body. A fireplace with a brick funnel that lead to the roof of the small house soot covering the walls and logs.

Max's bedroom was the door to the left of the lounge, Max’s bed was queen size and covered in white and purple sheets. El entered and pulled Max's wardrobe open, pulling out a blanket and pushed it into the hands of Mike who had been awkwardly standing in the hallway.

'Go to the couch, I'm going to go order pizza' El said not even giving him time to react as she charged into the kitchen pulling out her phone.

'Hey it’s me'

Brenner’s face was cold and harsh, it was long and narrow, his eyes grey as they pierced the air ahead of them. The slowly dimming light of the log fire just bright enough to show his lanky form and the black suit that enveloped it. His mouth was squashed down to a thin line that crept upwards when he saw the younger man stood before him.

'Mr Henderson, to what do I owe the pleasure?

In front of him stood Dustin Henderson, his body shorter than Brenner’s he wore a hoodie, star wars shirt and jeans, his body shaking under the intense stare of Martin Brenner.

'Well sir... You see... Well..'.

'Oh' said Brenner beginning to chuckle 'you think I'm angry about the Wheeler escaping deal'. Brenner chuckled again softly and stood to his feet, he placed his hand on Dustin’s shoulder Brenner sighed 'Well... You’d be right.’

With that Brenner hand that had been placed on the young man’s shoulder suddenly leapt to his neck, a vice like grip holding him in place as Henderson fell to his knees a cold silver ring resting against his throat, Dustin could feel his life slowly draining away.

The shrill of a bell broke the tranquillity of the room, Brenner groaned releasing the man's neck.

He practically stormed to the phone.

'Martin Brenner speaking'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go
> 
> This took less time than expected so... Woohoo?
> 
> Might be another one in the next month but no promises.
> 
> Have a good one.
> 
> Your scumbag
> 
> Sam


	4. File 4: Shots of the sinners

A bitter cold breeze swooped past El's face as she felt the snow crunch quietly below her feet, the white blanket had coated the wooded state of Indiana, the lakes were covered by a solid, slippery, rock Hopper had told her was called 'ice', she wondered if she could walk on it, she would have to try sometime. She looked across the forest she saw her favourite sheriff as he carried a large log intended for the fire of the cabin the pair shared. El smiled as Hopper looked up giving her a similar beam, silence sat comfortably around the two. A loud bang shot through the small opening, then came another and another and another and another and another. Jim's clothes began to drip red, his police shirt and trousers staining a crimson shade as he fell to his knees. 'Hop!!!' El yelled as she ran to embrace him however as she wrapped her arms around his neck he suddenly stood to attention and as El looked up to meet his eyes she found staring back were the two vacuums of emotion that were the eyes of Martin Brenner a cruel smile pressed against his lips.   
El awoke with a gasp breathing in as though it were one of her last opportunities to do so, instinctively her hand rushed to the gun placed firmly against her leg, Hopper had once told her that putting a gun next to her when she slept was risky but then she had saved his ass late at night when one of Owen’s boys had almost got the better of him late at night. After that Hopper had mumbled something about keeping the safety on and had gone back to sleep. She shook her head at the memory, remembering being grounded afterwards for breaking Hopper’s “Don’t be stupid rules” by firing her gun without a suppressor within the mile radius of the cabin 'last time I save your ungrateful ass' she had mumbled right after he delivered the news over the paper as he read it during breakfast.  
El felt a small tear trickle down her cheek quickly rubbing it away as though trying to avoid showing any form of emotion, trying to hide any sign of weakness or vulnerability. She remembered times of old when between her three of her friends she had always been the most open when it came to her emotions. Overtime the industry had changed her to the point she was seen justly as an blank destructive machine she never smiled around her ‘colleagues' as she would hear others call the psychopathic, degenerative scum she worked around. Whenever she heard that she couldn’t help but scoff, colleagues would imply a level of loyalty to someone, like a manager or CEO, whenever asked why they weren’t colleagues or loyal, she would refer to the best line of an awful movie 'There’s always a bigger fish' no matter how much money you had someone, somewhere had more green than you, a larger vault or a deeper wallet.  
El was snapped from her thoughts by a movement outside the door to Max's bedroom was already open so she simply had to move her head to see the shirtless guy she had brought here, he was in jeans that were clearly too big for him, and was, at this time, wearing no shirt his body thin and scrawny, his arms reminded El of noodles through the lack of mass and muscle she could see him inching closer to the door with his back to her. She scowled and spun around on the bed pulling the gun out with her 'Where do you think you're going!?!'.   
He turned around instantly facing her 'I uh... I was just... Uh' he stuttered  
Cute  
'Are you trying to escape? After I already almost killed you as soon as we met?'  
'What!?! No, no, no, no, god no I would never I was...'  
'Don't lie to me! I could kill you, I am risking a lot by letting you live you know!' she said placing the barrel of her pistol to his forehead head sweeping his unintentional bangs out of the way of his eyes as she seemed to be lost in them, her subconscious mind diving into the green beauties as the universe around her became a motionless blur as she seemed to fall deeper and deeper...  
Hopper!  
'Please' he said meekly 'I was just taking out the trash I thought it might be nice to live in a clean environment when the person came back' he indicated to the large black bags that El hadn’t seen up to this point.  
'Oh' she said slightly embarrassed she had almost killed a guy over voluntarily performing a menial household chore for someone who he didn’t even know 'Why were you going so slow?'.   
'Those bags are really heavy' The guy said.  
El reached down and picked up the bags with ease she looked at him and raised an eyebrow as if to say 'really'. The guy blushed as the spray of freckles that covered his pale cheeks being consealed by a ruby shade like rose to snow.  
Fuck why did he have to be so cute?  
'Oh I-I made breakfast you like eggs?' he stuttered clearly embarrassed by his lack of strength.  
So cute!  
'Yes I like eggs...' She said trailing off to indicate for him to say his name.  
‘Michael but everyone calls me Mike and you are...' he trailed off in a similar sarcastic manner.  
'Jane... Jane Ives' El lied, the last thing she needed was here name even more well known.  
'Okay Miss Ives how do you like your eggs?'  
Fertilised.  
'Soft boiled'.  
'I'll see what I can do'.  
El smirked as Mike wandered into the kitchen and she out the front door to remove the trash bags that now littered the hallway.  
What did he do to annoy Brenner anyways?  
El came back to see a very appetising egg with toast and a jug of coffee.   
Has Max’s kitchen ever been used this much?   
Suddenly El remembered Max's drunken antics with her boyfriend a few years back.  
Boy that was a weird trip to the hospital. Poor guy.  
Mike watched as El began to wolf down the soft boiled eggs, he had already had a coffee so he sat there quietly 'So...' he began El looking up halfway through her second egg 'what's the game plan?'  
El took one piece of egg of her spoon before responding 'I got in contact with someone last night, who will provide us with a way to get out of the country, then we go our separate ways and never speak again. Any questions?' she asked sarcastically her blunt tone of delivery amplified by the sudden transition of attitude.  
Mike though fully understanding responded dead seriously 'Yes, I have many questions, Who is this friend? Where are we going? How long do we have to get...' he was cut off when he saw her gun back in his face.’  
'Let's make some rules.’ She said not paying full attention to the gun or Mike as she pointed it at him. 'Rule one...'.  
She was then cut off by the sound of the front door being kicked by an unseen individual, it flew open as two burly men both dressed in black shirts, suit pants and blazers as well as aviator sunglasses they both carried silver pistols that not even El could see in the heat of the moment. The two men began to fire into the kitchen, El in an instant grabbed Mike and the table, pulling him underneath it whilst flipping it onto it's side grabbing her pistol firing a shot which didn’t find either of her targets, the two men continued to fire as shrapnel from the table flew off, one bullet ricocheted, bouncing off the table and into the ceiling. El pulled Mike throwing him to the door and fired at the kitchen's window. It broke slightly.  
'Mike! Go for the window!'  
Mike followed her orders without question and dived through the window one bullet barely missed as he dived out the moderatly sized window smashing the remaining glass as he went. El followed suit charging out, grabbing his arm practically dragging him towards the car she threw the door open, slid over the top and knelt beside the wheel on the left hand side. The men ran out of the house eyes scanning for the two of them. This was it. Her chance, she fired upon the first man as he hit the pavement with a loud this as blood flows across his shirt so much so that it began to resemble a murder of crows in a bed of roses, the second instantly fell back to the house at the lose of his companion. El saw her chance and ran to the drivers seat pulling away from the street and making way towards the highway as Mike buckled his seatbelt. With that he sat and breathed slowly allowing oxygen to fill his depleted lungs 'Who were those guys?' he asked looking over to El who shook her head and spoke quietly yet still able to do the car with voice.  
'They're called the Owens twins they work under a guy called Luke or Dennis one of the two, he before you ask is a younger mod boss from what I remember. Your contract was originally mine but after no response for 2 weeks, Brenner must think he knows what went down and has moved your contract onto Mr Lukey-Dennis. Now either he's going to have another crack at it or OUR contract will be moved onto someone else maybe Dustin will get another shot.’  
Mike’s ear pricked up 'Dustin?'  
'Yeah he sort of acts kind of like an agent for me he makes sure I get good hits for a moderate cut, Brenner offered him a great deal for one kill.’ She said, Mike could see she had something on her mind. 'Why do you ask?' she said.  
'Oh I just knew a guy by the same name growing up, doesn’t sound like him though he was full of life and was a huge nerd'.  
'You'd be surprised by how many nerds are at those meetings, Exhibit A’ she said gesturing to herself.  
Mike began to sit and think about Dustin, Lucas and Will they seemed to be his go to thought when he was overwhelmed, he looked to Jane who drove quietly, he looked out of the window and realized they were driving down a part of the freeway he sort of recognised it was heading to Hawkins they were probably 20 miles down route 65, if Mike recalled that would mean they be about just under a four hour drive from Hawkins, he wondered if she would consider letting him visit his friends one last time before they left the country and probably lost any hope of speaking ever again but suddenly, almost methodically El turned into a random gas station maybe 20 miles out of Merrillville. She turned to him immediately handing him two crinkled, twenty dollar bills. 'Go in and order a Cappuccino and Eggos if they have them. Order whatever you want with what’s left' she ordered, with that she stepped out of the car and walked to behind the diner. Mike for a split second considered following her.  
Wheeler let me lay it down straight for you in easy terms best case scenario, she punches you. Worst case she shoots you and rams one or those gas pumps up your...  
Mike shook his head and removed his subconscious from these thoughts walking into the 50s like diner thinking quietly about his adorable captor.  
Good god you’re so smitten I just want to puke   
Mike ordered the food and began to smile dumbly to no one thinking about El as he stirred his coffee.  
Mouth breather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s this another chapter and I didn’t make you wait six decades... This can’t be an authentic SRking91 story!!!   
> Thanks for all the support I post this story on Fanfic.net and AO3 (as well as Wattpad but we don’t talk about that one) and on AO3 it's hit triple digits in terms of hits, which is amazing. I know any sort of record but across my seven accounts on Wattpad, Fanfic and AO3 (look passwords are hard okay) I have written 4 stories and this is the biggest any of the four have gotten so thank you so much, I can’t promise you a consistent upload schedule due to personal life and my other side project.  
> Apologies for those of you who live in Indiana and know I got some of the geography wrong I am British so sorry, feel free to berate me in the review section.  
> Also apologies to those who purely want Mileven and are sick of my action scenes I'll try to put a bit of both in here and there because I know some of you purely want romance while I want to write pure action but it’s like Hopper says compromise.  
> Right?  
> Right?  
> Forever your Scumbag  
> -Sam


	5. File 5: A Dynasty of Death

'A box'. Hopper said 'You pulled me from my warm ass office to the cold as piss outside, for a fucking box’. Standing before him was Joyce Byers with a small, brown cardboard box with maroon duct tape covering the cardboard flaps of the box whilst also sticking them in place.  
'Yeah Hop, a box addressed to you and yet delivered to me.’ She said displaying the crudely written address spelling out simply “Chief Jim Hopper” in black pen ink. Hopper read the name and looked up. 'Maybe it was a shipping mistake, mail man might of read it wrong’ he suggested shrugging as he placed the box on the table sitting down as Joyce began to do the same 'Must be a dumb as fuck mail man to get number and street wrong. Also Jim everything you order is left in the station isn't it?' Joyce asked lighting the cigarette she had been resting in her mouth for the past couple of minutes.  
Suddenly a realisation hit Hopper like a ton of bricks he looked up at Joyce and spoke 'You know if you wanted to see me that badly all you had to do was ask, just saying' he said smugly as he lit his own cigarette. 'What are you.. Oh. You think I did this!' it was more of an observation than a question 'Why would I... How could you..' she stammered gesturing to the box.  
'No, no it’s fine I get it I mean, I consider it a curse that I can’t see these guns myself' he said mockingly flexing sending Joyce in hysterics. 'You're such an asshole' she said through her fit of giggle slapping the arm of Hopper lightly.  
'Ow!' said Hopper mockingly 'Joyce Byers you know that’s assault on an officer don’t you? I could arrest you for that you know' the sarcasm was thick within his tone. Joyce smirked to herself quietly she took the cigarette from her parted lips and rested it horizontally on the glass, star shaped ash tray. She propped herself over the table by her elbows 'Oh no, officer you know I can’t go to prison, I'm a good girl really' she said coyly seeing the effect it had on her favourite drinking officer.  
'Fuck Joyce, you know you could make me do anything when you start talking like that right?' he said breathlessly.  
'Anything?' she asked pursing her lips 'As in anything ever?'  
'Name it' he said as though on the edge.  
Joyce smirked as she moved right next to Jim's ear blowing into it whispered softly 'Open the box' and with that she leaned back over the table and smiled in satisfaction.  
'Fine' said Hopper grumbling 'Just a few questions, first, why didn’t you open it yourself?'   
'Well Hop because I unlike you have a moral compass and I didn’t want to do something that was morally and legally wrong.’ She said crossing her arms in her best attempt to look intimidating.   
'Okay' Hopper started 'but you said this concerned El.’  
Joyce smiled once again before walking off to the room Hopper knew to be her bedroom often thinking about how great it would be to enter it with her someday. He was soon cut from these thoughts by Joyce re-entering the room with a pink and white card in hand. She slammed it onto the table sitting back down and crossing her arms with a triumphant smirk plastered firmly on her face. Hopper looked dumbly at the card 'It's a card' he said looking at her in confusion.  
Joyce scoffed ‘Nothing gets past you’ she muttered before opening the card 'look’ she said pointing at the ink. Hopper picked up the card 'To Joyce, Happy birthday from...' Hopper was cut off by Joyce pulling the card from Jim's grasp 'No not the words Hop! The handwriting, look at the handwriting!' she said exasperated.  
'Oh my God...' Hopper muttered suddenly realising 'Get me a knife.’.  
'Yes sir!' Joyce said sarcastically capping it off with a mock salute before sticking here chest out as she marched to the next room over which seemed to serve both as her kitchen and her greenhouse as several potted plants adorned the window sill and cupboard tops. Joyce reached a small drawer musty cutlery spilling over the sides she scanned the small space for a few seconds before pushing several piles of spoons and forks aside eventually finding what she was looking for.  
'Hop! I got a knife but it’s not the best.’ She yelled out.  
'That's okay I got my own one out. I just thought it'd be funny to send you out there for no reason'.  
Joyce muttered to herself about this as she sat back down at the table next to Hopper as the knife tore through the tape and the flaps flew open Joyce scrunched up her nose in confusion looking to Hopper for guidance however when she looked at him his eyes had gone wide with intrigue as his hand ran across the smooth content of the box.  
A fire crackled quietly as Brenner sat to himself in a comfortable quiet. One that let him sit and think he looked over to a small envelope that sat on his coffee table, he lost himself in the white paper as he thought the penmanship made him realise in an instant who it was from. He thought for a moment of the small runt who had run from him, his face sat blank and quiet, the sound the only thing keeping him from completely drifting into his own mind he thought, in truth his mind landed on the runt quite often, too often. He looked to the glass in his hand taking the bronze liquid to his lips. Three assassins and not one could bring him the runt's head he felt anger tear through him, his grip tightening to the point he heard a small cracking sound of glass. He stopped he breathed for a moment, this was an over reaction and he knew that there was no need for him to become so angry with this he was no where near the bottom of his contact pool. Yet he was down two of his best assassins he would need someone.  
His eyes drifted back to the letter occupying the table to his left.  
No. No, there’s no need for that yet. Hopefully there never will be.  
Brenner looked to the fire place the flames brought back the memories, he stared deep into the flames and thought of the past he thought about his father who sat him on his lap and would tell him stories of the homeland as the comforting fire emblazed the room, he remembered then of the screams of his mother as she screamed in agony of the burns, if his brother whom he had been forced to kill to secure the family business, if his father who at the cremation of his eldest son had told Martin he was no Brenner, that he was a common, backstabbing, murderous, thief the masquerading as anything more.  
There it was again like a tidal wave of emotion anger gripped at the veins of the older, wiser Brenner his thoughts returning to the runt in his rage he found the glass flying from his hand and saw it crash against the back wall of the fireplace, the flames leaping up as the shards clattered and smashed against the walls and the grate. A small cough resonated around the small office Brenner veered around and stared at the same young man who had broken his tranquillity a day prior.  
'Are you okay sir?' Dustin asked.  
'Do I look it?' spat Brenner.  
'Well, no... But there’s nothing to worry about we still have plenty of options not to mention...'  
'Three' Brenner cut in.  
'Excuse me sir?'  
'Three assassins and all three have failed miserably' Brenner sighed 'My contacts are fulfilled the fucking first time around, not the second or third okay? Not fourth or fifth. Not sixth or seventh. First! The first time!'  
'Sir you shouldn’t beat yourself up so much it was really not your fault and on top of that...'  
'I KNOW IT WASN’T!' Brenner was standing now his gaze straight at Dustin he yelled anger overruling his body now rage overflowing like water to a cup. He stared at Dustin his face emblazed like the fire that now roared the orange glow the only thing lighting either man face to the other 'IT WAS YOU! I TRUSTED YOU I BROUGHT YOU INTO MY CIRCLE AND THIS IS HIW YOU REPAY ME!?! A CONTRACT KILLER WHO FOR ALL I KNOW IS FUCKING THE CONTRACT! NOT TO MENTION MICHEAL OWENS' DEATH, FOR THE RECORD SAMMY WILL HEAR ABOUT THAT SOON AND AS SOON AS HE DOES HE GONNA GO FOR MR SINCLAIR FOR ASSIGNING HIM TO THE CASE AND THEN HE'S GOING TO BE GOING STRAIGHT FOR YOU!’.  
Brenner sighed beginning to calm himself down. He turned to the back of the office and looked towards a small pine wood cabinet with a glass door he pulled it open and grabbed a small glass which he grasped and placed it on the small table grabbing a bottle of whiskey and began to slowly crack the lid of and methodically began to pour it 'Do you know why I had to kill my brother?'   
Dustin was quite surprised by this he stuttered for a moment 'Uh...No sir I don’t think I ever thought of it to be honest'  
'Brenner chuckled quietly to himself 'To avoid civil war, that’s why' .  
Dustin raised his eyebrows 'Excuse me sir?'   
'I loved him I really did but he had one problem.’  
'What was that sir?'  
'He was too nice, too innocent, despite the overwhelming love for my family, there are those who want to run the family for themselves, killing him made me look strong but it also prevented him from being used as a puppet for someone like the Hargroves. If another assassin fails me his death could have been in vein, if another assassin fails people will begin to see me as weak' he stood and walked over to Dustin putting his hand on the other man's shoulder 'So I need to show them otherwise'.  
Suddenly a loud pop resonated around the small space. Dustin's eyes shot open wide from shock before succumbing to his fate, red flowed from his chest he put his hand to his chest touching the red substance as it stained his hand, he grasped at Brenner’s arm desperate to remain stood, the scent of smoke filling his nostrils. Brenner leaned close to his ear and barely breathed his statement 'One day you'll thank me for this' he said.  
Dustin crumpled to the floor his eyes closing as the dark red liquid flowed from his chest as the crimson shade spewing to the white carpet like a field of roses budding through a blanket of snow.  
Brenner turned to his phone dialling a quick number 'Hello? Yes. Meet me in 20 minutes. Good. All three of you. Yes. Goodbye.’  
With that he picked up his glass turned it upside down pouring it to the floor he picked up a briefcase and stepped over Dustin’s body closing the door and locking it behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yes! I'm back to my famously consistent update schedule!  
> I understand that this update was probably a bit disappointing given I was busy with being a sad very lonely... Uh I mean my thriving social life.   
> Also for those of you wondering Dustin is dead this is not a fake out, I promise, scouts honour.  
> Mike and El will be in the next chapter  
> Thanks to noDownSide for the kind words as always the support means the world to me.  
> Now if you excuse me I'm going to go cry for the next 2 weeks... I mean talk to people like a normal person  
> Thank you for reading  
> Forever your scumbag  
> -Sam


	6. File 6: The Self Destruction of the Don

An orange glow radiated from a table where three young men sat, the luminance scattering across the table dancing over their noses, no drinks surrounded the small ragtag formation although a small pub cloaks them. As men wander to and from the bar, they hear glasses clinking loudly as gentlemen dressed in clothes of silk, blue and red ties, black blazers covering their shirts of white. Buttons of seemingly pure silver, held their fur coats together. One of the young men look to a clock he didn’t understand all the Xs and Is but he had been told when all the hands were pointing to the top of the circle it would be time to move. Two of the hands were but the third and fastest was moving as though it knew what he was planning he looked to the two other men the first, the one who was hired to be here, Axel if he recalled correctly was preparing to move looking to the clock as though he could blow it up with his mind, the second, was his best friend, mentor and closest thing to a father figure he had ever had, Steve who sat there silently praying. The room was thick with of the smell smoke of cigarettes and joints, the men had been toasting and drinking late into the night normally the bar would close at ten but the owners had said that the bar could remain open until one o'clock in celebration of the beginning of the seasonal falling of leaves, the few trees that occasionally sat next to the roads had turned a crisp shade of orange over the past few weeks. The men of the bar continued to clink glasses and yell words of praise to both the booze and country ten more ticks. A group of men yelled to the bartender nine more ticks. A man made a joke about some sort of local politician to which an entire half of the room erupted into laughter eight more ticks. The young man’s leg bounced uncontrollably almost bouncing the table with his leg alone seven more ticks. He felt a hand grip his wrist as he looked up to see Steve clutching it tightly six more ticks. He breathed deeply knowing he would soon be leaping to his feet and jumping into action five more...  
Bang! A resounding shot echoed around the pub as Axel had already leapt up and fired directly to the ceiling 'This is a robbery! Hand over any and all watches, money, rings and anything else of value!' he yelled out, he walked to the bar and pointed his second gun directly at a patron’s head 'do I need to repeat myself?' he asked, the patron scowled in anger he reached inside his jacket pulling out a small wallet which Axel promptly grabbed Troy, start on that side, Steve start watching the door'.  
Steve and Troy had gotten to their work at once, Axel continued to take money from the people sat at the bar after about twenty minutes of grabbing coins Troy had counted $190, 7 rings, 27 pennys and a few mobile phones.  
Bang! A sound came across the room shooting through Troy’s eardrum bouncing off the tables and walls he looked to the bar where the sound had come from, he quickly spun on his heel to stare at the source of the sound. But what he saw before him shook him to the very fibres of his being, a sight that would stick with him for the rest of his days, a moment that defined a thousand more, there stood Axel with smoke wafting from the barrel of his pistol, splatters of red spilled across the oak flooring as the gentry body fell to the floor, the resounding thud echoing through the now silent bar. Chaos. That’s all Troy was able to recall in his later years as soon as one fell others leaped up to attack swinging wildly at Troy as he dodged blows over shot he took aim at one man who had thrown a punch and... Bang! The man fell the red liquid splattered Troy's face, red droplets coating his cheeks he steeled himself and ran for the door with Steve and Axel close in tow. Kicking it open he charged down the street no real sense of direction following him he rounded a corner bounding towards the streets which he knew so well, charging down an alleyway diving behind a dumpster closely by the other two.  
Both men panted breathlessly, looking back to hear the sound of sirens wailing against the blackened Illinois skyline, the stars like dots upon a blank canvas.  
'What in the name of the lord of fucks was that?' Steve asked.  
The next few days had been tough as Troy had recalled in his later years eventually after many days and nights of ducking police on the cold streets of Chicago rummaging after a few days Troy’s sister tracked them down and informed her brother and his motley crew of the bounty placed upon their heads by the Chicago metropolitan $300,000 for information leading to their arrest. A few days turned to a week which turned to two weeks, to three weeks and finally after a month of cold hunger, Troy fell into an existential crisis, his mind clouded with toxic thoughts like smog to the sky above a factory.  
It was at this point that Troy remembered, a limo pulling up and stopping in front of the three as they sat in quiet thought. He was coated in black, a sheer spectrum that seemed to pierce atmosphere surrounding him. The depth of Troy’s vision made the man seem even more outstanding.  
'Axel the Anarchist' came his sharp voice it cascading through the cold silence 'Troy Edwards Prasad, Steven Harrington, my name is Martin Richards Brenner Jr, I'm here with an opportunity for work for all three you. Although I must say that the work is not for the... How do you say... Faint of heart’  
‘Look here' Axel said standing to his feet ‘I don’t give a damn what we do. What would you pay us?' he demanded seemingly trying to stare a hole through Brenner who smiled warmly in response before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a newspaper the headline read in bold 'Unidentified hooligans kill 2 in bar', 'I' said Brenner holding the newspaper up with his left hand ‘can make all this go away just like that' he snapped his right hand's fingers to further illustrate.   
'Hmm let me think...' said Axel 'oh hang on I've got a better idea’ at this he pulled out Troy’s penknife that he had “lost” a few days ago ‘why don’t you give me your wallet?'  
'I wouldn’t do that if I were you Axel' Brenner said still holding the newspaper up.  
Axel scoffed and dived at Brenner but in a split second reaction Brenner threw the paper in Axel’s face temporarily blinding him, at this he grabbed Axel's knife and thrust it into the neck of the younger man, Troy watched as Axel’s legs crumpled beneath him as he fell to cold pavement Troy had called home.   
'So then gentlemen shall we talk business?' Brenner asked as though nothing had happened.  
That was 7 and a half years ago, Troy, now 23 sat in the back of a jet black limousine with Steve and a brightly ginger haired girl called Max. After that day he had been sent from despatched gang to despatched gang of the Brenner mafia, in his near 8 year allegiance to Brenner he had done many abhorrent acts he had been part of the now infamous Bell Street Massacre, he knew that Steve was no longer affected by the sight of blood. The very thought of losing that disdain he still held for the vino like substance that his victims congealed upon the streets of Chicago made him feel a sickness that shot to the very core of the fibres of his being. Rivers of money seemingly leaped from the wallet of Brenner to the pockets of the two, after a while the two had been sent a young 19 year old fiery red head, her personality as bombastic as her hair colour, she was kind, grateful, enigmatic, cheated terribly at Black Jack but the thing that scared Troy was, that like Steve she felt no fear with a gun in her hand or the weight of her knife against her palm.   
'Troy? Earth to Troy?' came the familiar relaxed voice of Max.  
'Uh... Sorry what were you saying?' Troy asked regaining his composure.  
Max rolled her eyes 'I was saying we’re almost there make yourself look presentable at least'  
Troy began adjusting his recently purchased suit. The car came to a stop and the door flew open to the cold night they sat in front of a large estate. At once all three stepped out and up the stairs as the doors creaked open they were lead oddly to the lounge were the Don of the Brenner mafia sat peacefully smoking a long brown Cuban cigar he turned to face the three, he stood.  
'Ah' he said looking down at his lit cigar 'I know I'm supposed to be quitting but I won’t tell if you won’t’ he joked before ashing his cigar a 'Steve he said before embracing the taller man patting him on the back as he did so 'you get a haircut?' he asked studying the younger man's head.  
'Uh.. No just new product' Steve replied.  
'Ah..' Brenner laughed 'I should let you have a go my hair while I still have some' he chortled running his left hand through the spiked white thorns he called hair. To this the room let out a collective chuckle. 'Max..' he said European kissing her on both cheeks 'You're well I presume?' he asked holding her shoulders.  
She nodded 'As well as can be expected.’  
Brenner smiled 'Good, good' he turned to Troy 'Troy my boy I'm loving the suit, now shall we get to the grizzly details?'   
'Maxine, my dear this is your target' with that he produced a picture of a short man with a small main of hair 'this' he began 'is Lucas Sinclair'  
'Dead or alive?' came Max’s short response.  
'Neither, I want you to find where his allegiance truly lies, if with me, seriously injury, if elsewhere, death'  
'And how do you intend for me to find out where his allegiance does actually lie' Max questioned  
'Through your looks' Brenner answered.  
Max scoffed.  
'He has a thing for red heads now go I'll send further details when necessary'  
'Yes sir' she said before turning on her heel and leaving the estate  
'You two this one should be no challenge for the two of you' he said handing over a picture of a pale, freckled man with a jet black mop of hair that gave him a rockstar like quality 'This' Brenner began again 'is Michael Wheeler a good investment gone bad, bring him here, alive'  
'He seems harmless' came Steve's voice.  
'I thought so too' Brenner responded 'but then three of my closest confidents best assassins failed to bring me his head'  
'Guy must be tough' Steve said sounding impressed yet sceptical at the same time   
'No' Brenner said flatly 'she's tough' he produced a picture of a woman, a short, smug looking woman 'Gentleman meet...'  
'Eleanor Hopper' Troy interrupted 'Hawkins Indiana, born and bred, body count ranging between 75 to uh.. 350?' he looked to Brenner for reassurance who nodded his head yes.  
'Well gentlemen my sources indicate their heading down route 65 in a black BMW M3 license plate number 583 YSU, be quick but Troy... I need to talk... Alone'  
Steve looked confused but obeyed nonetheless.  
Brenner dropped the smile instantly turning to his cigar 'still don’t smoke?'.  
Troy shook his head no.  
'Good, that’s good, you'll need a fresh set of lungs when you take my job' he spoke as he ashed his cigar 'Troy have made it any secret to you that you will be the one to succeed my throne upon my death?'   
'No sir'   
'Oh cut the fucking No-Sir Yes-Sir bullshit you call me my name perfectly fine the rest of the time'  
'Martin, what happened?'  
'Oh nothing I have one assassin dead in the ass end of fucking nowhere, the other one driving to Sam Owens to get him to take the position of Don, another assassin fucking the person she was supposed to have killed, my empire could be splitting in two at any given moment, one of my top advisors dead in my office, the other fucking a my new top assassin so I can figure out if I'm safe in my own fucking house'.  
'What do you mean dead in your office?' Troy asked.  
Brenner sat down on the couch again, taking a long drag from the cigar 'Henderson' he stated simply answering the question that Troy had yet to ask, Troy sighed. Brenner stood and grasped at Troy’s suit 'look Eleanor Hopper and Wheeler are your problem now, how about this' he said and smirk crossing his face 'bring Mike Wheeler alive and the head of El Hopper or your sister might have an “accident”’.  
At this Troy clutched at the throat of Brenner but recoiled instantly Brenner stood there for a moment coughing 'Say another word about her and I'll have succeeded you'.  
'I'm sorry that was uncalled for, I'm stressed about the whole situation, I didn’t mean it I swear'  
'See you soon...Sir' and with that Troy turned and left Brenner still coughing..  
El rounded the corner of the old restaurant, there sat was a woman a slight bit shorter than El, she wore tattered camo cargo pants, a black vest and a pair of military boots this was El's long time friend Kali Prasad 'You took your time' she said her heavy sarcastic, cynical voice cutting through the cold air. El had known Kali as long as she'd known Max and the three had been inseparable ever since, despite the small age difference between Kali and the other two. 'What were you doing, aside from the “target”?' Kali asked making small quotations marks with her fingers.  
El blushed ‘Well, if you must know I was dealing with the Owens twins and I haven’t fucked him'  
'Yet' Kali said, El turned beet red 'onto more pressing issues, ever been to New York?'  
'Uh, no, I mean girls from the middle of Indiana, not really New York locals, to say the very least'.  
'Alright, smartass do you know the New York fairy?'   
'No, who is he?'  
'He's some Indiana boy, he lives in New York and ferries people who are how do we say in less than envious situations, people like you and that human twig you drag around, to Portugal. Through some connections, favours and a healthy helping of threats, I did it'.  
She pulled out a small note, 'go to this address he will waiting for you'  
El crapped the folded piece of paper 'so I guess this is goodbye'.  
'No' said Kali 'remember our promise’ her voice quivering with held back tears 'we never say goodbye only see you later' the pair embraced not knowing if it would be the final time. 'Take care of yourself El and that fishbone you now call a boyfriend’ she laughed as she jumped on the motorbike that she had been leaning against for the duration of the conversation El watched as her closest friend drove away from her and out of her life. She looked to her fist where she kept the small note Kali had handed her. She turned on her heel and entered the diner Mike was sat there quietly enjoying a small plate of waffles and a Cappuccino with El's sat next to him. El smiled quietly to herself as she walked quietly over to Mike and reached forward making him jump as she chuckled quietly to herself.  
'You scared me' Mike said practically pouting.  
'Oh I'm sorry did I scare you?' she asked still laughing whilst sitting down next to him and taking a large swig from the Cappuccino.  
'Yeah' he said 'Hey can I ask you a question?' he asked  
'You just did but you know, I'm so generous, I'll allow another' she said sarcastically  
'What were you doing back there?' Mike asked.  
'That' she said tapping the end of his nose 'is a long story but to give you a quick version, we're going to the Big Apple. But first' she said dramatically raising a finger to emphasize her point 'I need to pee'  
'See you later alligator' Mike said as El got up she began to laugh  
'What are you like forty?'  
'No, well not yet'  
El walked off chuckling to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> Well that was fun.  
> Sorry my consistent upload schedule has gone up in flames quicker than Notre Dame.  
> Next chapter soon.  
> Cool?  
> Cool.  
> Bye  
> -Sam


	7. File 7: The cuts of kin carve deep

'Oh and I'm just supposed to get up and leave my work for you' Kali's dad yelled at her stepmother.  
'No, I am asking you to prioritize me over him' she yelled back at him. Kali rolled her eyes, her father loved his work it had felt as though she had lived in a one parent home when her mother was alive, they had left London soon afterwards. She was 5 when she had first moved to Hawkins, since then she had made two life long friends in Eleanor Hopper and Maxine Mayfield.  
'Oh that’s it let the whole of Hawkins know what I do, solid fucking plan! Tell me something who pays the rent here?' he yelled back.  
'You, you do Leo, but how long do you think you will of value to him?'  
'Oh because you understand how all this works, this isn't the fucking Sopranos or Good Fellas, you don’t know shit!'  
Kali suddenly heard a small sobbing from the bunk below there sat her younger half brother, Troy she dropped down and grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him into a tight hug 'It’s okay, everything is going to be fine' Troy rested his head against her chest crying softly.  
'Kali?' the little boy asked meekly 'Is daddy going to be alright?'  
Kali hesitated for a moment ‘Yeah’ she lied clearing he throat to make herself sound more convinced 'Yeah, he'll be fine'  
'Kali?' Troy asked again 'If something does happen to daddy, will you take care of me?'  
'Yes' she said this time without a second of hesitation she pulled him into an even tighter hug 'I'll make sure no one ever hurts you.’   
'To the end?' he asked quietly.  
'To the end. I promise you’.  
The siblings sat in a comfortable silence as they waited for the yelling from outside their door to subside.  
Kali drove down the highway speeding towards the windy city’s spires as they scraped against the clouds, an orange glow creating a ember flare to the skyline that bounced off her green iris, she thought and sat. Suddenly something caught her eye, she saw a red car, it wasn’t remarkable, most would write it off as just another car, another leaf among the forest that was the highway but something about it caught her eye, maybe it was a feeling in her gut, maybe it was divine intervention, maybe it was the fact that the Prasad siblings were finally fulfilling the promise they made decades before or maybe it was the cruel irony of fate that struck two.  
Kali turned her bike and rushed after the car fuel by desire to save her closest friend from the barrel of her own flesh and blood.  
‘No’ came the disapproving voice in the background as El fumbled with the rifle.  
'What now?’ She asked turning to Kali who gave her the shit eating grin she knew would piss El off.  
'Who are you trying to shoot when you hold a gun?’ Kali asked the smirk still plastered across her thin features   
‘The target!’ piped up Max from behind. Kali clicked her fingers turning into a point towards El.  
‘Yeah no shit, Sherlock' El said gruffly her voice bordering that of her father’s ‘why do you think I'm pointing it there' she proceeded to point down their “shooting range” which consisted of a wooden stool with an empty Diet Coke can resting aloft, the sharp silver slicing through the dark reds and browns of Hawkins' forest as it always did whilst in the vice grips of autumn. The trees dark brown trunks stretching to the skyline above.  
‘Yes, you are pointing the gun in the right direction but holding it there is going to take your head off' Kali said pointing to the stock of the rifle as it rested against El's pale cheek.   
El groaned knowing she was wrong muttered quietly under her breath before moving the weapon so that the stock rested against her chest, staring down the metal sight before firing again missing. Kali smirked 'Try again' she said before turning back to see her redhead friend Max Mayfield as she stabbed at a tree wearing a black T-Shirt and tight jeans that seemed to wrap around her shapely ass...  
‘Like what you see Prasad?’ the ginger asked turning round to look at Kali.  
Kali blushed slightly before walking forward watching forward, Max smirking knowing she and Kali had both seen where her eyes had fallen. Suddenly the silence between the two was broken as a loud slap sounded around the woods as Max felt a sharp sting against her backside 'Back to work, now'.  
It was now Max's turn to turn the shade of crimson 'Yes ma'am' she said cheekily with a salute.  
Kali's thoughts resembled the headlights if the cars that she drove next to she failed the car from a distance the magenta tone of the faded into the darkness of night.  
Kali stared at the open casket her father’s lifeless body numb, staring to the ceiling of the funeral home, her younger brother had been clenching her hand all day, she stared at the body and thought as she heard the priest delivered the final words of the prayer.  
‘I’m going to go say goodbye, wait for me outside' she said to the petite boy who simply nodded before turning to walk away. Kali looked at her father’s dead, unseeing eyes his final moments the largest question that rested on her mind.  
She sighed out loud looking down at her father before she felt a heavy yet deliberate Hans on her shoulder.   
‘Miss Prasad' said a deep voice, Kali turned on her heel and faced a built, admittedly jacked boy who looked no older than 2 year her elder. 'I'm Maxine's step brother Billy, Billy Hargrove.’  
'Hi' Kali said uninterested, she had heard of Billy from Max before but nothing more than the fact he was a compulsive womaniser and a crook of some description. Kali presumed a glorified dealer at best. Right now she didn’t care she just wanted to mourn her father’s death in peace.  
'Both me and my employers send our deepest sympathies about your father’s passing, Leo Prasad he was a good man, a good friend too.’  
‘Thanks’ she responded with her best crocodile smile, truth was Kali knew about her father’s “work”.  
Billy pulled himself so close to her she could feel his putrid breath against her cheek 'Good men buy other men drinks' he whispered 'and slowly they build themselves a bit of a bar tab, at that point in that man's mind he's on cloud nine, he's the bees knees, the best around. But one day, sooner or later the barkeeper comes to collect his tab. Unfortunately,' he said pulling away but still not raising his voice above an aggressive whisper 'me and my dear employer cannot collect from dead men, so that means the debt must go to his next of kin also known as you.’ He said 'well you and your brother when he’s old enough that is'.  
'How much?’ she asked just wanting to cut to the chase.  
‘1.5’   
’15 hundred!?!’ she thought ‘ I can pay that off in a month or two, easily.’  
‘Mil’ Billy said a smirk from cheek to cheek.  
Kali stood still, frozen to the spot. Her father’s body not even cold and it was already passing it’s legacy almost as though it wanted to dive into the grave as quickly as possible.  
'I'll be seeing you soon to discuss payment, our condolences Miss Prasad' he said beginning to walk away.  
Kali stood in awe staring blankly at her father’s casket.  
Troy was all too aware of his father’s debt, Kali had told him when he was 16 his instant response being to team up with his friend Steve and a friend of a friend of a friend called Axel and rob a bar in Chicago.  
It hadn't gone well to say the very least.  
Now he pulled sat in the passenger seat of a car as they drove along not knowing his sister had been following him for several hours as they drove down the highway.  
It was 1:30am according to the clock on the car's dashboard, he rubbed sleep from his eyes, his gun in his door's side pocket still untouched. Both men had crimson pupils scanning for the number plate 583 YSU his eyelids became heavy as they began to slowly droop he shook his head 583 YSU, 583 YSU, 835 YSU, 835 SUY, 835 SOY.  
'Troy do you remember the number plate?’ Steve asked his brain also having wandered elsewhere.  
‘Uh.. Ate free flies with soy sauce?’ Troy said instantaneously regretting it.  
'We're not going to catch them like this' Steve said 'There's a drive by motel just up from here'.  
Troy didn’t argue as they pulled up and stepped out of the car, after getting a room under fake names (they had settled earlier on Shawn and Dan) so Troy or Dan was sat on the bed while Shawn or Steve was out trying in vein to find a fast food place somewhere along the highway although Troy suspected that this was just a front for a final hour of searching for the two targets. Troy didn’t blame him, he too wanted to just get this mission over and done with, the thought of his bed was an appealing one. He sat and thought, what was the endgame for him? Finally after 10 years in this crooked underground world, he would start turning a profit?  
‘Great a decade of work experience I this can finally earn something. I wonder if this is how normal salaries work?’ he wondered, he and his sister had eventually managed to pay about $400,000 of the $1.5 million they owed Sam Owens and Martin Brenner.  
It was at this moment he sensed the presence of a second person at the door. ‘If you got Chick-fil-A I swear to god, Steve heads are gonna roll'.  
'What's wrong with Chick-fil-A?’ came a feminine jovial voice that Troy instantly recognized it as his sister’s he leaped to his feet and turned to face her. She stood there in black denim jeans, a smirk running from cheek to cheek.  
‘Kali' he deadpanned, almost flinching as he saw the smirk fall to a frown as his stepsister crossed her arms and seemingly began trying to stare a hole through her brother.  
‘Troy’ she said her now monotone voice little more than a growl.  
'So, you've heard...’ he said trying to kill the dead air, that hung harder than the condemned man at the gallows.  
'No, unlike you I don’t need Brenner to feed me every spec of information I need. I use this old school thing called intuition.’ Kali said seeing the hurt in her brother’s eyes, seeing as he retracted before returning to face her once again  
'You know what Kali you’re right I'm a sellout' Troy said allowing the tears to flow freely 'and you know what your “Intuition” is right, Brenner did send me to kill El and yeah I-I don’t want to but you know what I do want though?’ he asked tears streaming down his cheeks. Kali stared at her brother, and in that moment she didn’t see the ruthless killer behind the 9 deaths at the Bell Street Massacre she saw the little boy who she cradled during the fights between his parents, the boy who stared mouth agape at the news of his father’s death. ‘I want to pay off the debt our fucking scumbag of a father got us into, I-I'd drive myself to the edge of the fucking world to protect you!’  
‘Troy..’ Kali began reaching out to her sniffling brother as he leaned into her embrace the two feeling happiness wash over them.  
Bang!  
'Kali! Troy yelled as his sister’s head exploded viscerally.  
Another shot rang out and both Prasad siblings dropped to the floor dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know, my definition of soon is as flimsy as my social life.  
> Anyway! Basically, I've graduated and am looking for work.  
> On top of that I run gaming tournaments in my free time and I'm running a huge one in September.  
> I'm so sorry about the wait.  
> I hope to get File 8 out at some point in the next month so I guess I'll see you in 2028  
> Bye  
> -Sam


End file.
